Thursday, July 17, 2014

Summer break

Hello everybody,
Those who follow the blog with more or less assiduity have perhaps noticed the reduced continuity in the publication of stories.
That was desired.
I just slowed down.
And today I will stop.
It's just a break.
To rest, but also and above to think.
Consistent with things written and said in late 2013.
That’s the reason why I leave you, even if only for a summer, with those exact words, hoping to still follow them.
See you soon,

Alessandro




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Saturday, July 12, 2014

Israel Palestine conflict story video: we the public

Stories and News No. 677

Imagine a stage.
The screen of a cinema.
Or even the pages of a book.
In short a show.
A story told over again.
Always, even when you do not listen.
Especially at that time.
One of those slow plots, which can be resumed at any point.
And you do not have any difficulty in recapture the thread of the story.
Call it war.
Stories of travel and war, the only two possibilities, so it seems to work.
Here we have a war.
Because everything can be but a trip, this time.
It’s hard to travel when you are a prisoner in a scrap of land surrounded by a wall hardened by determined and obsessive hatred.
However, if the stories are trips or wars, only the former really tell something new.
A trip generates emotions and places, a child becomes a man and a woman becomes a child, and whether or not we return home, tomorrow everything will be different.
On the contrary, the war is a false narrative.
It consciously does it, even if it suggests ideals or reasons to justify the next scene.
Characters can change, the role as the jacket.
Indeed, as in our case, having been victims, oppressed and murdered in a century, they may become victimizers, oppressors and mass murderers in the next one.
They can change weapons, depending on what the market offers.
They can change the strategies and tactics in battle.
But the story does not really changes is the usual illusion of words and sounds, images and colors.
Because death is the beginning and the end.
It’s written in the headlines as the tail.
Death of innocent people, the so-called civilians, women and children.
Yes, even the warriors, the contenders, often die.
But for sure who will pay the highest price are always the same.
Read as well as the sacrifice of the characters with the brief script.
This is the reality of an old story.
If it is not a journey, war is inevitable.
Imagine again the pages of a book.
Better, a stage.
Or, if you prefer, the screen of a movie theater.
The actors are there, they kill or die, without alternatives.
Nothing changes, if you turn around or go to the bathroom and come back to your chair.
War.
This is a story that really never changes.
Because this is a story that has only one final we've seen too many times.
Death of the innocent.
Unless the reader will tear the pages, for once rightly.
Unless viewers do not cut the screen in pieces.
Unless the public will stop being just the audience.
Going on stage and saying enough is enough.
Like in the past, today, now, only us, witnesses of this terrible spectacle, can change history.
Because otherwise, they, will not stop.
Only this way the story of the war can become the story of a journey.
Towards peace.




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Thursday, July 3, 2014

Stories about life: the Jewish girl

Stories and News No. 676

It took about 80 years.
And here's the truth: Hessy Levinson (today Taft), winner of the contest held in Nazi Germany during the '30s to elect the Aryan ideal child, was actually Jewish.
It’s the story of long competitions.
The outcome is ever awaited.
I am not referring to awards and applauses.
Those are always for the winners.
And the winners are always the same, right?
The surprise is an exception and a moment later becomes normal. Because even the outsiders with trophy in hand and lights in the eyes, sooner or later, gets crazy.
Nevertheless, long life to the time.
Yes, time can be a tedious narrator.
But at the end of all, if you wish to see marvelous effect you have to wait.
No really patient spectator was never disappointed so far.
So it happens that finally the long contests judge opens the envelope.
And here's the bombshell.
The perfect Aryan child is a Jewish girl.
But not only that.
There, on the very far horizon, in 80 years or even longer, maybe there are others paradoxical results.
Maybe the model citizen is an immigrant.
And true god is nothing what you imagined or prayed so far.
Maybe the resistance of this world contains fewer terrorists than the exporters of walls and democracies.
Maybe the color of people actually covers our eyes, never the skin.
And we could save lives every moment of ours, just not killing them.
Silently.
Staying still.
At our place.
Maybe in a such wrong world a right as just as weak soul, suffers, takes drugs or is lost in a delirium.
But what wonderful could he be if the strongest among us will help him.
Maybe the secular, carnal and spiritual love that combines two creatures is the most sacred thing in the universe.
And it is sacred because it is secular.
That is, pure and sincere.
These and many, too many other unexpected results are suspended there, where we cannot see with the naked eye.
Read them as well as the treasure at the end of the rainbow of colorful lies.
Be brave, let us gather around the generous friend.
Let us entrust him with confidence.
Time is his name.
It may be slow, surely.
But when a letter arrives home, the words explode in the heart.
Of perfect laughter and joy.
Because really deserved.





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